Senshi (A Katana Novel) Page 23

  Whitley made an impatient sound. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  I shot him a dirty look. “I’m sorry I’m not instantly good at something I’ve never done before. Now if you could shut up and let me concentrate, I can focus on getting us out of here before we suffocate and die.” Before he could respond I turned back to the shield and pushed again, harder this time and with more energy. The shield moved a couple of feet. Better.

  Keeping my concentration on the shield, I said, “We’re going to have to hamster-ball our way out of here, so make sure you keep up.” I thrust again and the shield jumped forward. I continued pushing, scooting the shield at a speed fast enough that Q and I had to jog and Whitley huffed and puffed behind us.

  The gas pressing around the shield made maneuvering through the gallery difficult. I bumped into several display cases, knocking an expensive-looking vase off a pedestal where it shattered on the floor. I flinched, muttered an apology to the artist, and kept moving. After another minute of wandering through the thickening gas, the air inside our shield had grown so sparse we were all gasping for breath. Just as I wondered if we were going to make it out in time, I spotted the red exit light through the haze, like a lighthouse beckoning through the fog.

  Whitley’s breathing turned ragged and Q stumbled beside me. We had to hurry.

  I shuffled us forward and pushed the shield as close to the door as it would go. “On the count of three. One … ”

  “Three!” Whitley shoved past me, pressing himself to the front of the shield.

  The shield, weak as it was, fell apart like a popped balloon. I was thankful I had held my breath as we were instantly surrounded by gas. Whitley rammed his hip against the exit door bar and the three of us stumbled outside.

  Q fell to the ground, clutching his chest and gasping as I slumped to my knees beside him. Air had never tasted so sweet.

  Whitley swayed on his feet, the muscles on his arms straining under his shirt as the glass case slipped from his fingers. I had only a moment to dive out of the way to avoid the shattering glass. After brushing myself off, I stood on shaky legs and started to tell Whitley to be more careful. But when I caught sight of the hairpin lying next to me, the words died on my tongue.

  I picked up the kanzashi and examined it under the moonlight. It was tarnished, but I could remember a time when it gleamed. Crafted from silver, two long pins were joined by a silver basket overflowing with coral flowers. Thin pieces of silver dangled from the basket, each holding a coral bead at its base. I closed my eyes and listened to the tinkling of the chimes, knowing—but not how—that I had heard its melody before.

  But how was that possible? I opened my eyes and studied the hairpin, the ring of familiarity striking a chord inside of me. When I was a samurai, I never wore anything quite so ornate—hair accessories weren’t exactly practical for a warrior. So if it wasn’t mine, did that mean I’d seen it on the kunoichi?

  Did I know who the kunoichi was?

  46

  Before I could come up with an answer, the kanzashi was snatched from my hands.

  Whitley barely glanced at it before he tossed it into a sack with the other hairpins. I guessed it didn’t ring familiar with him. Interesting. “Alright, boys and girls, it’s time to move before our ninja friends show up.”

  “Where do we go?” I kept my eyes locked on the bag. I had to figure out where I’d seen the hairpin before. I knew it was the answer to figuring out who the kunoichi was.

  “Your place.” He hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “We can destroy the kanzashi there and, afterward, both be on our merry little ways, never to cross paths again.”

  “I like that idea.” Q reached a hand out to me and I helped him to his feet.

  But I wasn’t so sure. While I rejoiced at the idea of never seeing Whitley again, I didn’t know if it was such a good idea to destroy the kanzashi until I figured out where I’d seen it before. But before I could voice that out loud, a burst of electricity jolted down my spine, freezing me in place. “Crap,” I muttered.

  Whitley pulled his keychain from his pocket and un-locked his car doors with the remote. “What now?”

  I reached a hand out and grabbed Q’s arm, pulling him close. “Ninja.” I closed my eyes and concentrated until I felt the prickly heat of vicious intent closing in. I opened my eyes. “Five, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Shit.” Whitley ran a hand through his hair and looked at me. “Can you do that invisible thing with us again?”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way. I used up most of my ki and Q’s ki just getting us out here. It would kill me.”

  Whitley sighed and dropped his keys in the bag with the kanzashi and tied the bag to his belt loop. When he finished, he pulled what looked like a two-foot metal jump rope from the inside of his jacket.

  Q’s breath hitched in his throat. “What is that?”

  Whitley held one of the metal handles and let the other end dangle from his hand. “Manrikigusari. They didn’t have these when I was a samurai, but I’m rather fond of them.”

  God, I was so sick of chains. If I made it out of this alive I was going to stop wearing necklaces for good. I reached behind me and pulled out my sword.

  Q’s eyes darted around the alley. “What should I do?”

  “Wait in the car,” Whitley and I answered together.

  I stared at Whitley who smirked back. “Soul mates,” he sang, swinging the chain in front of him. “Before you know it, we’ll be picking out china patterns.”

  I snorted. “The only china I’ll buy is a plane ticket to the actual country. For you. One way.”

  Whitely shrugged but kept smiling.

  “No!” Q said.

  Whitley forgotten, I turned my attention to Q and the anger in his voice.

  “No,” he repeated, and folded his arms across his chest. “I am not going to wait in the car. That’s ridiculous. I can help.”

  “How?” Whitley stopped swinging the manrikigusari. His eyes narrowed. “You’re a healer, not a fighter. The most you’ll be able to do is heal yourself when you get hurt. That’s not exactly helpful. You’re more useful to me staying out of harm’s way in case I get hurt and need you.”

  A tendon flexed in Q’s jaw. “Thanks for your obvious concern, but I can do more than that.”

  Whitley laughed “Like what? Give them fashion tips?”

  “Listen up, asshole.” Q’s hands curled into fists. Anger rolled off of him in hot waves I could feel prickling against my skin. “To you I may be just another gay cliché, but I know I’m more than that. And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you go wait in the damn car and I’ll show you what I can do.”

  Both Whitley and I stood silently exchanging wide-eyed glances. As much as I loved my best friend and didn’t want to risk his life, I had to admit, I was pretty damn proud of him at that moment. Every fight was a dance with death. A true warrior knew not to turn away from that dance but, instead, pick the music.

  Q was a true warrior.

  Whitley opened his mouth, probably to argue some more, but I held out my hand to stop him. “He stays.”

  Q blinked several times before a wide grin spread across his face.

  Whitley scowled at me. “But—”

  “He says he can help.” I lifted my chin in a challenge. “And I believe him.”

  Whitley started to argue but appeared to think better of it and stopped. He waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. If he dies, don’t say I didn’t tell you so. I’m not about to risk my life to babysit.” He pointed at me. “The only reason I teamed up with you is because we’re connected.”

  Anger surged inside of me, boiling through my blood and curling my fingers into fists. I took a step toward him. “The feeling is mutual. In fact, I’d kill you right now if I could.”

  To my surprise, Whitley sm
iled, but it held no malice. It was warm and genuine. “Likewise.”

  I shook my head. “You are so weird.”

  Before he could answer, the distinct sound of footsteps on gravel echoed against the brick wall. We were no longer alone.

  Five figures dressed from head to toe in black stepped into the alley. I had no way of knowing if these were ninja we’d faced before or new enemies. And if they were new ninja, where the heck was the kunoichi even finding them? It wasn’t like you could call 411 and ask for a listing of

  ninjas-for-hire … or could you? I made a mental note to give it a try if I survived the night.

  Whitley swung the chain over his shoulder and stilled the swinging end with his free hand. His muscles were tight, his eyes wide, and his lips stretched into a frown. I could tell he was afraid.

  But it wasn’t like I was the spokesperson for calm and collected. My ki was drained and I was exhausted. Not a good combination for a fight. In fact, between the sweat trickling down my neck and my pulse rocketing through my veins, the only product I should endorse were Depends.

  I tightened my grip on my sword and held it in front of me. Q said nothing, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  The ninja in the middle stepped forward and extended his hand. “We’ve come for the kanzashi.”

  Whitley laughed. “So this is the smack-talk portion of the fight? We tell you ‘No,’ and you tell us you’ll make our deaths as painless as possible?” He yawned. “Call me when you come up with some new material.”

  “Not quite.” The middle ninja’s eyes creased in such a way that I knew he was smiling under his mask. “We’ll make your deaths painful. I just thought we could save some time.”

  Together, all five ninja pulled katanas from their sheaths. Whitley didn’t waste any time. He charged for the closest ninja, swinging his manrikigusari in front of him. As they collided in combat, the manrikigusari wrapped around the ninja’s sword. Whitley yanked on the chain and pulled the katana from the ninja’s grip.

  Before the blade clattered to the ground, two ninja confronted me with their swords drawn. As I ducked the blade, I watched Q fall to the ground only to jump back to his feet. A ribbon of fear twisted around my heart as I dodged another attack. Oh God, please don’t let him get hurt. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.

  “Watch it!” Whitley stepped in front of me and blocked a hit I hadn’t seen coming. “If you die, I die. And that’s really going to piss me off. Get your head out of your ass.” He kicked, his foot landing in a ninja’s gut.

  Whitley was right. If I focused on Q instead of the ninja, I was as good as dead.

  Two ninja attacked me at once. I ducked below a strike aimed at my head and jumped over a sweeping kick. I dropped to the ground, placed my free hand against the pavement, and swung my legs over my head like I’d done so many times on the half-pipe. When I landed, I slammed my elbow into the ninja’s knee. I heard the distinctive snap of bone before the ninja fell to the ground, groaning.

  Before I could congratulate myself, Q cried out. I whirled around in time to see him clutching his side as blood bloomed across his T-shirt.

  I watched, helpless, as Q fell to the ground. My stomach convulsed and I couldn’t breathe.

  From far away, I heard someone yell my name. I looked up in time to catch a blur of silver as a sword careened toward my face. I stumbled backward. The blade missed my face but passed close enough to rustle my hair. Surprised, I took another step, but my heel caught the edge of a crack in the pavement and I fell, landing on my shoulder.

  The pain barely registered. All I could think about was getting to Q and making sure he was okay. But as I laid on the ground searching for him, I couldn’t find him.

  Panic kicked my heart into a gallop. Where was he? The clang of metal on metal sounded behind me and I propped myself up on my elbow. Before I could climb the rest of the way to my feet, someone kicked me from behind. I slid against the gravel, tasting blood in my mouth.

  “Get up!” Whitley screamed.

  I tried, but another foot landed in my gut. I collapsed on the gravel as burning fire replaced the oxygen kicked out of my lungs. I coughed, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. I willed my body to move, but my muscles refused to cooperate.

  Two black feet appeared before me and I lifted my watery gaze to find a ninja with his sword drawn. He spoke, his deep voice muffled by the fabric across his mouth. “The kunoichi sends her regards.” He raised the katana over his head.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the blow to fall.

  47

  Even with death only a few seconds away, I couldn’t help but worry about Quentin. Where had he gone? What had happened to make him bleed so much? And how could I have let him get involved in the first place? Regret laced through my ribs and pulled tight, crushing me from the inside out. If I was about to die, maybe it was because I deserved to.

  But instead of a skull-crushing blow, I heard the unmistakable thud of a body falling to the ground beside me. I opened my eyes, but what I discovered didn’t make sense. The ninja who’d been seconds away from killing me was now lying on the ground unconscious. I mashed the heels of my palms into my eyes, blinked, and looked again. The scene remained unchanged.

  “What the—?” I began.

  “Hey.” Q walked over to me and held his hand out, a wide grin spread across his face. As he helped me stand, I couldn’t help but notice his torn and bloody T-shirt. If the wound underneath looked half as bad as his shirt, I wondered how he was able to stand, let alone help me up.

  My gaze darted between his bloody shirt and the ninja on the ground. “Just—how?”

  He shrugged. “I told you I could help.”

  “But—” Before I could finish, the ninja stirred at my feet. I swung my arm back and prepared to strike, but Q grabbed my wrist before I could.

  He shook his head. “It’s cool now.”

  “What are you talking about? They’re killers!” I watched the ninja stand on wobbly legs. My biceps burned from the strain of holding back my fists. Why wouldn’t Q let me fight? Had the kunoichi infected his head again? I prayed that she hadn’t because I had no idea how I was supposed to fight my best friend.

  The ninja blinked lazily as he brought his hand to his face. He tentatively touched the fabric covering his mouth before pulling it off of his face. The boy underneath looked to be my age, and cute—if I were into ninja. He stared at me with unfocused eyes, like someone just waking up from a nap. “Do I know you?” he asked.

  Definitely weird. I chanced a glance at Q. “Why isn’t he trying to kill me?”

  Before Q could answer, Whitley walked over to us, swinging his manrikigusari in a lazy arc. He pointed his free hand at the still-blinking ninja. “Want me to take care of this last one?”

  “No.” Q stepped in front of the ninja and folded his arms. “I already did.”

  Whitley frowned and looked to me for an answer. I only shrugged.

  “Um, excuse me.” The ninja stepped out from behind Q. “Can any of you guys tell me how I got here?” He looked down. “And why I’m dressed like a ninja?”

  Q turned and placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “Me and my friends found you guys passed out in this alley. From the looks of it, you were at a costume party and had too much to drink.”

  Whitley and I exchanged more confused glances.

  The guy frowned. “I don’t remember going to a costume party … but my head does hurt really bad.”

  Q nodded. “You’re probably going to have a wicked hangover in the morning. You should go home, drink a glass of orange juice, and get some sleep.”

  “Yeah,” the guy echoed. His eyes swept over the four unmoving ninja littering the ground. “That must have been some party.”

  “Epic.” Q agreed. “Don’t worry about these guys. We’ll take care of them.�
�

  The guy nodded, mumbled something about how his mom was going to kill him, and shuffled out of the alley. He turned the corner around the building and disappeared from sight.

  What just happened?

  Q rubbed his hands together. “Well, that takes care of that. Now to take care of the rest of these guys.”

  Whitley grabbed Q’s arm. “You’re not doing anything until you tell us what the hell just happened.”

  Q shrugged off Whitley’s hand and stepped around him. “I healed him.”

  “Of what?” It was my turn to move in front of Q and halt his progression to the fallen ninja. “I mean, I always knew ninja were a nuisance, but I never considered the possibility they were a disease.”

  Q laughed and gently pushed me aside. He walked over to the first ninja and leaned over the body. “They’re not really ninja.” He pulled the scarf off the ninja’s face, revealing another young guy.

  I shook my head. “Q, if they look like a duck, walk like a duck, and quack like a duck, it means they’re—”

  “Ninja,” Whitley finished for me, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Not necessarily.” Q squatted next to the ninja. “These guys are just normal teens. This … kunoichi you talk about? She’s planted false memories into their heads. I can’t really explain it.” He put his hand on the guy’s forehead. “When I touch them, I can feel the wrongness festering inside their minds—like a puss-filled blister.”

  Invisible spiders raced up my spine. “Wait. She can make people think they’re ninja when they’re not?” It was bad enough she’d messed with my ki and turned Q against me. I suppressed a shiver. So not good.

  He removed his hand from the guy’s head and moved to the next body. “Think of the human brain as an inflated balloon.” He removed the third ninja’s hood, revealing another teen guy. “The more air you blow into a balloon, the greater the strain on the balloon until—” Q mimicked an explosion with his fingers. “Bam. The false memories the kunoichi implanted does the same thing to the brain. That’s why when I was infected I had migraines. The longer the kunoichi has a hold on these guys, the greater chance they’ll experience brain trauma.”